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ज्योती घनश्याम लिखित आणि लाडोबा प्रकाशनाने प्रकाशित केलेली 'विसाकी ओकिनावा' ही रोमांचक मराठी किशोर कादंबरी! घनदाट जंगलांपासून ते सागराच्या तळापर्यंत निसर्गाचे रक्षण करण्यासाठी लढणाऱ्या ताराचा हा साहसी प्रवास अनुभवा. साहस आणि पर्यावरण जागृतीचा हा एक उत्तम संगम आहे.

पुण्यातील शनिवारवाडा पटांगण आणि राजकीय सभा यांचं कित्येक वर्षे अगदी अतूट नातं होतं. माझ्या जन्मापासूनची तीस वर्षे कसबा पेठेत गेल्याने शनिवारवाडा या ऐतिहासिक वास्तूशी निकटचे भावबंध निर्माण झाले होते. वाड्यासमोरील पटांगणात होणाऱ्या विविध सभा हा आमच्या पिढीसाठी सुरेख श्रवणानंद होता. दूरदर्शनचा काळ यायच्या आधीचा जमाना असल्यामुळे संध्याकाळी भाषणे / व्याख्याने कुठे आहेत याचाच शोध घेतला जायचा. धूळभरल्या पटांगणात बसून किती तरी दिग्गज वक्त्यांची आजही स्मृतित असलेली भाषणे ऐकली. आचार्य

In the vast and vibrant world of Marathi literature, Sahitya Chaprak has carved a niche that resonates deeply with readers of all ages. Their commitment to nurturing literary talent, especially from rural areas, and enriching the cultural fabric through diverse content is nothing short of inspiring. As someone who has delved into their collection, I find it essential to share book review insights that illuminate the unique qualities and profound impact of Sahitya Chaprak’s o

महाराष्ट्र साहित्य परिषदेच्या निवडणुकीत राजकारणाचा शिरकाव रोखण्यासाठी आणि 'साहित्यधर्म' जपण्यासाठी प्रा. मिलिंद जोशींच्या 'परिवर्तन उत्कर्ष पॅनल'ला का निवडून द्यावे? घनश्याम पाटील यांचे सडेतोड विश्लेषण वाचा.

अजितदादांच्या पश्चात सुनेत्राताई पवारांनी 'गांभीर्यपूर्वक' शपथ घेत जपला दादांचा वारसा. दुःखाच्या प्रसंगातही खंबीरपणे उभ्या राहिलेल्या महाराष्ट्राच्या पहिल्या महिला उपमुख्यमंत्री आणि विरोधकांची दुहेरी भूमिका यावर घनश्याम पाटील यांचे परखड विश्लेषण.

साहित्य परिषद आणि तिचा महत्त्व ज्यांना गल्लीतही कोणी विचारत नाही, मात्र ते दिल्लीचे स्वप्न बघतात, असे अनेक उमेदवार आपण बघतो. जो साधा नगरसेवक किंवा ग्रामपंचायत सदस्यही नाही, तो थेट पंतप्रधानपदाच्या उमेदवाराविरूद्ध निवडणुकीत अर्ज भरतो. प्रत्येक लोकसभेत, विधानसभेत ते बड्या उमेदवाराविरुद्ध अर्ज भरून निवडणूक लढवतात. दरवेळी तोंडावर आपटतात. स्वतःचे हसे करून घेतात. तरीही त्यांची प्रसिद्धीची नशा, धुंदी उतरत नाही. एव्हाना वाचकांच्या डोळ्यासमोर असे काही चेहरे आले असतीलच. हे सगळं मांडण्य

If you were asked what the most important issue facing our country is, what would you say? For some, it might be the Hindu-Muslim conflict. For others, it could be caste-based reservations for OBCs, Marathas, Patels, Jats, or Dhangars. Some might point to border security, while others might focus on global conflicts like Gaza-Israel, Russia-Ukraine, or India-Pakistan. Some may worry about petrol shortages or the water crisis. Many are concerned about environmental pollution o

देशापुढील सर्वात महत्त्वाचा मुद्दा कोणता, असा प्रश्न विचारला, तर तुम्ही काय उत्तर द्याल? कोणाला हिंदू-मुसलमानांचा प्रश्न महत्त्वाचा वाटेल, कोणाला ओबीसी, मराठा, पटेल, जाट, धनगर, बंजारा वा अन्य जातींचे आरक्षण महत्त्वाचे वाटेल. कोणाला सीमा सुरक्षेचा मुद्दा महत्त्वाचा वाटू शकतो. कोणाला गाझा-इस्रायल, रशिया-युक्रेन, भारत-पाकिस्तान यांचे युद्ध महत्त्वाचे वाटेल, कोणाला पेट्रोल टंचाई, तर कोणाला पाण्याचे संकट वाटेल. कोणी पर्यावरण प्रदूषणाने चिंतित होईल, तर कोणाला संविधान संकटात असल्याच

Savita felt Sameer standing near her. She felt him lean down, his hand gently stroking her hair. She sat up with a start. Darkness was everywhere. A thick, impenetrable darkness. Her voice, a tremor, called out, “Sameer…” And then, just as quickly, she realised she was in her own bed. And Sameer was nowhere. In fact, no one was. There was only silence. A stillness. A terrifying void. She got up and opened the window. A sliver of light from outside crept in, lingering at her

It was just past three in the afternoon. The sprawling hospital’s outpatient department was quiet during the mid-day break, and with visiting hours for inpatients not yet started, the corridors were nearly empty. It was a moment of calm for the hospital staff. Just then, a sprightly gentleman, who had crossed seventy but wore none of its weariness, walked in. Finding the reception desk empty, he looked around until a nurse, who had been sitting nearby, approached him. She as

Only a handful of villages host a fair for the festival of Ram Navami, and in our Shirur taluka, the grandest of them all is likely the one in Kendur. Village fairs, or , invariably feature a wrestling arena and a folk theatre performance. A select few also host bullock cart races. In Kendur, the cart races were paramount, for this was the home of the Patil family’s famed —a racing cart renowned throughout the Pune district. Its lead bull was a champion in his own right, a s

Madhuri and Sunita were out shopping for the summer’s supply of —the traditional sun-dried savories prepared annually in Maharashtra. An exhibition by women’s self-help groups was set up on a large ground. As they browsed the stalls, the sight and smell of the delicacies transported them back to their childhood. Before their eyes, the lane of their youth came alive, transformed into the bustling ‘Assistance Factory’ that it became every May. For that entire month, a medley o

If I were to keep a written account of how many people in my life I’ve complimented with the line, “Your shirt is nice, and it looks even better on you,” a hundred notebooks wouldn’t suffice. I’ve deployed this dialogue on countless occasions—sometimes casually, sometimes to suck up to my superiors, and sometimes when an argument was about to get physical. In most cases, it has worked to my advantage. The moment my boss wears a new shirt, you can be sure I’ll be in his cabin

He switches off the table lamp, lights a cigarette, and sits quietly in the chair. A dull ache lingers behind his eyes. He hopes the cigarette will lighten the heaviness in his head, and so he takes slow, deliberate drags, releasing plumes of smoke into the dark. The bedroom is shrouded in blackness, punctuated only by the glowing red ember of his cigarette. From his chair, he watches her. She is sprawled across the bed, a chaotic landscape of limbs. She has started to put

Every year, March 8th is celebrated globally as International Women's Day. It is a day to honor the myriad achievements women have secured through their long fight for their rights. Simultaneously, it serves as a day to raise awareness about the secondary status that women continue to hold in society and within the family. But what exactly is feminism? And why is Women's Day celebrated specifically on March 8th? Many of us do not know the answers to these questions. The femin

Travel was once a primal necessity for humankind. The same evolutionary instinct that drove early humans to wander in search of food still propels us today. While the quest for sustenance remains, our reasons for wandering have multiplied. Travel is etched into our very being. We are constantly on the move—sometimes by compulsion, sometimes for pleasure; sometimes for duty, and at other times with cherished company to a desired destination. We travel for our daily bread, and

Of worldly snares, O mind, beware, For Time, the devourer, is drawing near. When Time makes its leap, a fearsome sight, neither mother nor father can aid your flight. The king of the land, the village chief, nor kith and kin can bring relief. Says Tuka, no one can set you free, save for the one who holds the cosmic key. I never got entangled in the world's web. Why would I lie? The god above is watching! He keeps a record of everything. It was the world itself that wrapped i

While translating books on war and terrorism—such as , , , , , and —it has been a moment of immense joy to repeatedly sing the praises of the valiant soldiers who lay down their lives for the nation. Recounting their stories always filled my heart with pride. Yet, at the same time, the inexplicable and untimely ceasefires in those very wars left my spirit disheartened. It is our historical tradition to win on the battlefield only to lose at the negotiating table. We have witn

It was evening. The state transport bus, having dropped off its last passenger in Aundha village, disappeared in a cloud of dust. It would have been a surprise if the men gathered on the village , the communal platform, weren't curious about the lone man who had alighted. His gait seemed familiar, so Shankar Mathe called out to him. “O Dhanaji… come here!” Dhanaji climbed the embankment from the side of the road and came towards Shankar, sitting down on the . He washed his

I had come home to the village for my weekly leave. From the main road junction, I looked towards my village, and my heart filled with joy. But then my gaze drifted eastward, and the very water in my heart seemed to melt away. My mouth went dry. It felt as though the sand were slipping from beneath my feet. I had to steady myself. Ganpatrao Nagargoje’s farm was no longer a verdant green. Why did his perennially lush fields now look like they did in the peak of summer? A thou